


White two sugars, with a slice of espionage and gyrating

by Russian_Batman



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Humor, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lapdance, M/M, Multi, Substance Abuse, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 03:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Russian_Batman/pseuds/Russian_Batman
Summary: Why did the Englishman slide down the pole? Because the Russian told him too.Alex is on a mission and is caught snooping, he proves to be an uncooperative menace show casing skills he most certainly was not taught in school, but the story began long before then. There are some things we can never out run.





	1. once upon a time

**Author's Note:**

> Finally posting this story after 2 years, rocked the kids to sleep, shoved life out of the way and got down to writing. I hope you enjoy, please do leave a comment and any constructive criticism xx

Cursing his inability to say no he ran, his feet pounding on the stone floor, his breath coming out in sharp pants. His chest began to burn, the bullet wound was long healed but with each breath the ache in the wound was beginning to increase. Each time they asked him to do a 'simple, routine mission' he swore it would be the last time but lo and behold here he still is. Running, getting shot at and doing the dirty work of the British government branch MI6.

A simple surveillance job, That's all it was supposed to be, a simple surveillance job and he would be getting paid as an agent as well as a the wage from this job. Quick easy money. 

Thinking about it still made his blood boil, when the manager of the restaurant first rang offering him a job he remembered being surprised not remembering applying. But seeing as he applied to so many jobs in a short amount of time it was easy to forget one, so he just shook it off, smiled brightly ,said his thank you's and did a victory dance. Now Alex is certain that MI6 sent them an application in his name and made sure he was working there and getting his bearings before slithering over to him with a with very small mission proposition. There were no such things as coincidence. 

Alex had been 2 weeks into his brand spanking new job when Tulip Jones, the new head of MI6 rang to say they suspected the restaurant and bar to be a front for illegal human trafficking, although knowing dear Tulip he was most likely not given the full story. As tempted as he was to decline, the temptation of double pay was a little too appealing. This way he could earn some money working whilst also having his ear to the ground gathering Intel, a win win. Of course he was Alex with the blood of Rider and life really isn't that simple or easy for him. So naturally with a touch of the Rider magic and a few shots of Vodka he would stumble on a not so simple world domination plan and would obviously be left running whilst being hunted by armed gangsters. Naturally. Well world domination and armed gangsters is a slight exaggeration but potato Poh-tah-toe. 

The establishment he was sent to wreak havoc upon 3 month ago, was a high end restaurant at ground floor, but a hidden stairs in the back and a side entrance led to a bar that catered to a more elite clientele, a membership needed to even enter . It was home to a large stage complete with plush seating, tables dotted around and a bar. Entertain the patrons they did, male strippers, female strippers, burlesque dancers and many other bands and acts, and tucked away in the corner were small rooms with beds, the only evidence of the fun spilling off the stage and slinking into a different genre of entertainment. 

 

Alex spent most of his days working as a waiter for the restaurant, never to work in the bar downstairs, he was 16 but according to the application MI6 sent on his behalf he was 18, how convenient for them, now under aged Alex would have access to areas that be restricted to over 18's only.….Whoop dee doo. 

The age jump wasn't too hard to believe as he did look older, Alex had gone through quite an appearance change, paired with puberty he was far from the boy everyone first met all those years ago, almost unrecognisable, he was so striking he was practically covert. It's always funny how people would focus on a given aspect only to overlook so many more important details. 

The bar was kept off limit to all staff working in the restaurant, to the extent that there was a separate body of staff to govern the downstairs bar. The excuse given for this separation was that by treating the upstairs and downstairs as two different establishment was that it would ensure the smooth running of both businesses without any confusion. Although if the intel from MI6 was correct, then it was more likely that the staff downstairs needed to be trusted to keep their mouth shut in regards to keeping the confidentiality of the people coming in and the unsavoury deals that may or may not be taking place. Adding to the mystery was the owner who nobody had ever seen, turns out all of the employees who worked in the restaurant had not met or even knew what the owner looked like. Alex was unsure as to whether this was the case for the staff that worked downstairs. The manager who over saw the running of both the restaurant and bar was nice enough , a ready smile and a friendly demeanour, always having a busy schedule planning rotas and completing paperwork, but there was always more than meets the eyes. There had to be if he was playing the face of the restaurant, no doubt he would be privy to running of the upper and lower level business as well as anything extra taking place off the books. The staff would gossip amongst each other, they would laugh and have wild theories as to why the bar was off limit to them, who the oh so important client were, but most importantly who the owner was. Everything from the boss being a mobster to a underground criminal hideout complete with gigolos. As outgoing outlandish as these theories were, there had to be a morsel of truth in them. Unsurprisingly Alex had found his way into this bar but he hadn't had time or event in the right state to snoop around, he was invited by a patron after a lapse of his judgement and restraint. 

He had found himself with a group of young men he met one evening , and as drunken comrades they found themselves stumbling into a night club in town. Like all young people out to have fun there was no limit, a cocktail of drugs were changing hands. Smoked and sniffed with the same breath. Swallowed down with a gulp of burning liquid. 

It was so easy to put on a mask upon a mask, pretending to be someone he should've been. Flirting with woman, laughing at jokes keep the banter flowing, playing a part, acting with a goal a purpose. 

It was so easy to slip into the darkness and numb the chaos of his mind, one drink was followed by another 

Another 

anothar 

anoth 

Nother 

Drinkjs anotess, 

And he found himself t 

U 

m 

l 

b ing 

 

stumbling down and down into numbing peace. 

 

 

The club was packed to the seams with writhing bodies. The flashing lights were blinding and the tang of stale sweat mixed with the stench of overused deodorant adding to the already unpleasant claustrophobic atmosphere, the thrumming bass made it hard to even think, Alex had long forgotten about his new friends 

 

Faces blurred into each other, dreams collided with reality, the only defining features was the need to fight away the demons clawing at him. 

He met a warm body to fumble with in dark alleyways, lips that stole kisses and whispered filth in to his ear, strong arms that held him around the waist and took him to the secluded downstairs bar. He was by no means innocent or a child, he had grown before his time, scared both mind and body. Neither a victim nor the perpetrator 

Alex does not remember much of that night nor does he want to, what he does remember is the morning after, waking up in an unfamiliar setting with last night's clothes strewn across the floor, he was sticky, sore and with a woodpecker in his head intent to peck through his skull. 

He could hear the shower on so he quickly got dressed wanting to avoid morning awkward interaction. It was best that he left before they got a good look at him. Or maybe it was more that he did not want to see who his bed fellow was. Without wasting any time Alex quickly pulled on his clothes with a hiss taking care to not look at the room, the less he knew the better. Unable to find money in his wallet he grabbed the coin and notes from the wallet strewn on the floor after a slight hesitation and the voice of morals whispering in the back of his mind, before darting out of the front door in search of a taxi. 

He knew the routine well by now, Walking away, with his head down, not really taking in the streets of the area, ignorance was bliss. quelling the feeling of nausea and shame, it was reckless to lose control like that especially to the point he had fairly no memory of the night before. Calling out for a taxi, he settled in, giving his address


	2. Down the rabbit hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of Drug abuse.

With a quietly drawn out sigh, Alex realised that last night's heavy binge had taken a big toll on him, if the tremor in his hands and the dull ache in the place of his liver had anything to say about it. Willing himself to sink into the worn out seats, Alex tightly shut his eyes, digging the heel of his shaking palms into his eyes. He was having vivid flashes of crushing and snorting some tablets with his new found friends. He vaguely remembered hearing someone say Pregablin. Alex sat back, leaning his head on the head rest, and glanced at the rear view mirror with his bloodshot eyes, surrounded by dark circles. 

The driver was glancing at him through the mirrors. 'Well, lord' luv a duck' he laughed 'You look tom tit, heavy night laddy?" he asked with a thick cockney accent. 

Alex merely groaned in reply, not wanting to start a conversation, especially one that would require Alex to lie. He did not have enough brain cells alive to do that at this moment in time. 'Bloody Ubers trying to shut you down, it’s an absolute disgrace', ceasing the driver from asking him anymore questions but opening the floodgates to a rant. The rest of the ride consisted of Alex dourly looking out the window whilst the driver swore at other drivers meanwhile explaining the dire economic situation. 

As the driver pulled up at the destination, Alex thrust the money into his hand and climbed out of the taxi with a heavy heart and a throbbing headache, muttering a thank you. Stumbling down the street he absentmindedly kicked small stones in his path, squinting at the harsh sun light peeking through the clouds. 

The address Alex gave was a few streets away from the flat, his home. Alex mentally scoffed and drudgingly walked along. It was a far cry from the house where he spent his life In Chelsea. He had long sold that home, the ghost lying in wait in each room was a contributing factor. 

After Jack. After losing Jack, it was all just... hard? NO, it was worse than hard, it was soul tearing. It was agonising - 'emotionally damaging', the shrinks called it. Jack had always been there for him, she loved him unconditionally, and he killed her, just like he killed all the others. 

He did go to live with the Pleasures, but the grass isn't greener on the other side. The Pleasures were patient and hopeful that they could fix him. Cover up the cracks and replace the broken bits with positive thinking and smiles and a whole lot of sharing feelings. All the pretending was tiring, he could not just lock a part of him away. The old Alex was gone he died with Julius. Every dark crevice and shadow hid potential danger. That woman with a baby who walked past him twice in the supermarket could have been a sleeper agent, marking him. The hand the grabbed his shoulder in a crowded school corridor could easily be a hostile. In a world full of terrorist and murderers Jack was the light that lit the path. Without her. It was just a big mess. He was stupid to have things that he could lose so quickly, that could die so easily. 

He couldn't stand the pitying looks they gave him. They said he lost his innocence, but it just didn't disappear. It was ripped, clawed away bit by bit. Sometimes quietly, other times kicking and screaming, but nonetheless payment was taken, and it always left a scar. Leaving him jagged, raw, with nothing. It was almost similar to dying and being reborn again, he was never quite the same. Stripped him pieces by piece, layer by layer. 

Some people would find it surprising but death doesn't happen at one given moment. It occurs in stages and layers, and if something did manage to fight and grow from the shattered remains it would be weak, twisted and deformed leaving a trail of damage in its wake. Each time Alex looked back the trail would be long and longer. Sure to say it wasn't working out with the Pleasures, or more he wasn't working. Less than a year later he came back to England, with a few choice words he had MI6 emancipate him. 

Hounslow was now his area of residence in London. His flat in the tower block was strategically and methodically chosen, second floor, high enough so it cannot be climbed from the street, but low enough for Alex to jump out if necessary. There were other building in the surroundings but surveillance of any kind would be difficult. Feeling eyes on him, he began to watch the reflection of the scene behind him in passing cars, he did not spot anything out of place, but he could not shake the feeling he was being watched, a voice in his head was screaming at him that he was being followed. Chancing it he stopped and began to wildly look around, not seeing anything he cursed himself for his paranoia. He attempted to unlock the entrance to the tower block, which proved to be an impossible feat, as his hand was shaking and the key sliding across the lock, clattering across in a deafening manner. He could not steady his hand enough to insert it through the key hole. Forcing himself to focus was just adding to the hammering in his head. With a cry of frustration, Alex kicked the door before sliding down to the floor with his face buried in his hands, not caring about passers-by who were looking at him. After what felt like hours but was most likely a handful of minutes, there was the sound of shoes scuffing the floor from behind the door. Alex stood up, slipping in when the door was opened by a young woman, she barely noticed Alex as she was too engrossed in her phone. He walked up the stairs to his floor, silently thanking Smithers for the fingerprint scanner on the back side of the door handle. Closing the door behind him, he walked straight to his bedroom, promptly face planting the bed, wanting to do nothing but sleep through the next few years. 

 

 

The next few days followed by uneventful he was careful to not have a repeat episode of the binge, working shifts in the restaurant. Going around the back with his colleagues in their break to complain about customers, smoke or to even share a glass or two of wine they have acquitted. Alex had noticed that every now and then some unsavoury characters or mysterious group of men would be ushered to the side entrance, down the stairs and into the bar, perhaps to conduct meetings. Alex could never find an opportunity to check.  
Until one day, when he caught a glimpse of men being ushered in to the office, nothing out of the ordinary except for a brief flash of a gun. A part of him was tempted to cast this out of his mind and just carry on, maybe he just imagined it. Maybe he didn’t want to get shot again. maybe he didn’t want anyone to die because of his inability to leave things alone. One thing was certain he could never not be him, plus he could never resist the pull, the rush of adrenaline was addictive. He quickly and quietly walked to the adjoining room, knowing that the ventilation systems in both rooms were connected allowing a free flow of air and conversation. Alex bought a chair to the wall and climbed up and put his ear to the ventilation shaft catching snippets of the conversation. 

 

"...Proceeding to plan.... problems to be taken care of? " 

" No, mistakes!!" 

"...The shipment?" 

" We are losing money and time; the window is closing fast..." 

"bay 15, ship coming in at 02:00am " 

"the cargo.... 

 

Hearing the advancing clackety-clack of approaching footsteps had Alex jumping off the chair and hiding out of sight. When the footsteps died down Alex silently slipped out of the room and back to the kitchens, where he was supposed to be working. His mind was left reeling; what organisation was this? If it even was one. What was the shipment? Fish, tins of tomatoes, people? Could all this just.... Alex was pulled out of his musing with a shout from the head chef and a tea towel flying menacingly to his face. 

 

One thought led to another, which is how he was now hiding at the Docks waiting for an apparent shipment. He had sneaked in easily enough, too easy, there were no extra security. No armed personnel. Most likely that the shipment was not coming tonight or it was low risk. He was waiting inside the office close to the docking by, the office was sparse but the window offered a good view of the area whilst simultaneously hiding him from prying eyes. He noseyed around the room and found it to be bare, the cupboards and desks empty. Alex found a memory stick hiding in between files and a bottle of Vodka in one of the draws, drinking to fight off the sinking chill, Na Zdorovie he saluted, taking a deep swig, relishing the burn. 

He was conscious that he would need to limit himself, getting drunk and making a mistake was not an option. A little to steady his hand and silence his mind would not do much harm, considering this was turning out to be a waste of time, there was no sight of a shipment. Taking another swig, he switched on the computer, bypassing passwords and firewalls. Under the cover of darkness, he opened the files but found them to be a series of numbers and nonsensical letters and numbers in sentences. It must hold some value if it is important enough to be coded, he thought. He copied the files on the memory stick pocketing the memory stick. Alex looked at the time, it was 03:17 and the shipment had not arrived yet. It wasn't a complete waste of time, though, as he did have the memory stick. 

He shut down the computer and sat down on the floor under the window. He took another gulp and closed his eyes. He realised he should start making his way back home, when he glanced down at his watch it read 04:09. If the shipment was going to come it would've arrived by now. He was either at the wrong Docks or he had the wrong day. He slowly got up to his feet, if anything he just wanted to be in bed with a pretty girl. Might as well root around the other rooms for anything of interest before he left. He bought the bottle of Vodka with him as he began to search the other rooms in the complex. 

Opening a door to a pitch-black dark room, he looked around with the sparse moonlight coming through the window. This room had a different layout, he could just make out the back of a large sofa. Walking into the room, he switched on a small table lamp. There was a guard sleeping on the floor and another one on the couch. Alex froze momentarily, not sure who was more surprised, he or them. They both opened their eyes at the blinding light, squinting only to have a look of confusion when catching sight of Alex. The man on the couch got up to his feet, and in a moment of blurred reflex, Alex threw the vodka bottle straight him hitting him square in the face. He watched the guard stumble and step on the man on the floor, eventually tripping over in a heap on the floor. Alex hurriedly ran out shutting the door behind him. 

Ahhhhhh Whoops. 

 

 

And that was how he found himself being chased. 

 

His feet skidded, as he took a left, banging his shoulder on the wall. He mentally swore at the origination for putting him in this situation, and his own curiosity. Words that Mrs Jones once spoke to him echoed clearly in his head: 'That's what makes you such a great spy. It isn't that you were made one or trained to be one. It's just in that in your heart you are one'.  
He peered out the window in the hall way, catching movement. There were a group of armed personnel on the dock below, some were walking around the perimeter with dogs, others were standing in a group, one thing was certain - they each had a gun. Well this had escalated, getting out was going to be a lot harder than going in. Up ahead Alex saw a lone guard walking. Alex slowed to a jog. 'Hello I'm Alex, what can I call you?' he cheerfully greeted. 

The guard caught unaware stumbled forward, his hand was grappling into his waistband for his gun. 

Sloppy, slow, unskilled. 

Alex ran forward sliding on to the floor, kicking the man's Iegs from under him. With a carefully aimed quick succession of vicious kicks, the man was dazed and groaning on the floor. Alex quickly put the guard in headlock and pressed on the windpipe until the man lost conscious. 

'An ambulance perhaps,' Alex chortled only to turn around in to a barrel of a gun. Alex followed the arm to a pale skin and cold blue eyes framed by long eyelashes. His heart skipped a beat. 

Alive. 

He must have silently creeped in when Alex was preoccupied with the guard. 'You must be saint like, being all holey and that' Alex laughed at his own joke whilst eyeing the chest ahead him. 

'Alex, give me the memory stick'. 

Alex sputtered, a look of mock hurt on his face. 'What, is that it? No hello? No more love declarations or suicidal missions? Gosh, honestly comrade, I am hurt'. 

The Russian stared at him scanning his face, Yassen looked at him but for some reason Alex felt unable to look him in the eye. Maybe due to the feeling of rising bile and nausea. The gun was set straight ahead, it did not waver. 'Give me the stick, it'll be easier for you'. 

'I have no idea what you're talking about, I just got here. Next thing I know you lot are chasing. Honestly I should file a complaint. I just wanted to see the Docks under the moonlight'. 

'You set off silent alarms as soon as you stepped foot into the building, there was a camera watching you the entire time'. 

Alex mentally cursed himself, and wordlessly glanced around. He could run but he would be shot before he even took a step, no doubt Yassen was not alone, others would be headed this way. There was no escape for now. 'I'm not sure how I feel about you wanting my stick.' Alex wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. 'Grab it gently, my woman won't be happy if it's out of use'. 

Yassen continued to stare at him I'm passively. 'Hands behind your head and on your knees', he softly commanded, taking a step forward. Alex smirked, rolled his eyes to the point it was in danger of falling out of his eye socket and rolling away. He did what was asked of him, and Yassen began to meticulously search him, patting him down with one hand, the other holding the gun that was still trained on him. 

He was dazed by this revelation. He had watched Yassen die, he saw the blood. How on earth did he survive? Why didn't MI6 tell him that Yassen was still alive, why were they hiding it from him? Alex scoffed. "Of course, if one person could do a Jesus and resurrect it would be you, it would have to be you. Say aren't you getting a bit old for this now?' 

Alex studied his face, unabashedly staring, his eyes taking in every close detail. He always thought Yassen to be timeless a chilled statue. His face was smooth but the signs of time passing left its marking, there were fine lines forming around his nose, slight crinkles had appeared around his eyes, drooping eyelids. Blue eyes met his, Alex searched Yassen's eyes, not sure what he was exactly looking for. His fingers were restless and he had to resist the urge to touch Yassen's face. It was a childish notion but Yassen always had the aura of an immortal. ' I always thought you to be above the average man, like some sort of supervillain. But you're just like us. You're starting to get old' he said, a sad smile playing on his lips. 

'You know, my mother uses this superb anti-aging cream, you should look into it. You can't out run wrinkles'. Yassen chose to say nothing and continued to search Alex, his fingers grazed a small bulge in the right back pocket. Yassens nimble finger deftly slipped in to grab it, Alex leaned in to the other man and let out lewd moan. Yassen merely shoved him harshly, Alex lost his balance and fell to the floor. Yassen pocketed the memory stick and his phone, looking at Alex who was leaning back into his elbows. 

The other goons began to trickle in to the corridor, and Yassen motioned Alex to get up and gave him a small shove to get him moving. Alex began to walk, the nose of the gun pressed in to his back a constant reminder. 

'Where are you taking me?' 

Yassen only jabbed the gun Into his back as a reply. Alex silently walked on following the one worded instructions, taking care to place one foot in front of the other and not stumble. 

He was led to a room that was empty except for a chair in the middle of the room, Alex ignored Yassen and sat down on the chair, before anyone beat him to it. He knew he'd be damned if he did this standing up. One of the goons tied Alex's arm behind his back, and they weren't gentle about it. Yassen went out of the room to talk on his phone, must have been updating his master. Alex strained to hear but he couldn’t make anything out. A few of the goons were dotted around the room, watching him. Alex was lounged upon the chair as if it was a throne, legs spread out and stretched. ' I wouldn't say no to a cuppa, all this running around has me parched', The men barely blinked and ignored him. 

 

Yassen walked back into the room and stood by the entrance, he looked everywhere except for Alex. How curious, Yassen was actively avoiding his gave, Alex watched him with narrow eyes and voiced out loud, 'You remind me of that ex-girlfriend that you see on the street who pretends they don't remember you exist, but you know what baby, it wasn't all bad'. Alex mentally berated himself; the filter for his mouth was gone. 

Yassen continued to ignore him, what a bore. Alex turned his head and looked at the goon close to him, he looked Mediterranean. 'You importing them in these days, do they even speak English? I suppose you just can't get the workers, especially with Brexit and Trump.'. With a smirk he asked the Mediterranean 'hablo taco... burrito?' The goon in question simply glared in response. Yassen gave Alex a warning look, Alex crossed his ankles over each other, leaning back and resting his head on the chair and laughed with delight. 

'So what's a big shark like you doing in the kids playground?' , he asked glancing at Yassen, flashing a sympathetic smile. Alex spoke up in a mocking voice, 'oh dear, are you not allowed to play with the big boys in the adult playground? Are they all being mean to you now?'  
Alex looked around the room, his thoughts wondering. He remembered the day he stumbled back from that stranger's home and the feeling of being watched. In hindsight he wasn’t being paranoid, it must've been a pesky little Comrade borscht. 

He was cut short by a man walking in, a silver fox. This must be the big bad boss. The goons began to trickle out except for Yassen who had now walked to stand by the wall behind Alex.  
Alex made sure to garner the attention of the Mediterranean, and winked at him in an exaggerated fashion, laughing at the flash of anger in the other man's eyes. 

'I see you're making new friends, I must warn you to not rile up my men too much' the silver fox spoke, his voice cultured. 

Alex surveyed the new comer with a shit-eating grin, he was stood leaning against the wall, watching Alex intently. He was considerably older looking, at least in his late 40s, handsome no doubt with grey eyes, salt and pepper hair. He was wearing a smart suit that outlined his firm body. He certainly looked good for his age. Alex chortled, 'Between you and him, 'nodding in the direction of the Russian, 'I feel as if I've gate-crashed a OAP party'. 

The man pushed off the wall and began to walk around Alex in a predatory manner. 'I've heard all about the great Alexander Jonathan Rider, I have to say I am disappointed. You hardly seemed worth the trouble'. Alex looked straight on ahead, refraining from following him with his eyes. 'Careful now, at your age all this walking around in circles will have your hip popping out'. 

'Childlike idiocy, uncouth, reckless, unskilled, inexperienced'. 

'Please don’t hold back, do give me your honest opinion'. 

The silver fox stopped directly in front of Alex, sitting on his haunches and looking straight into Alex with his piercing eyes. 'Those are the things we know you are not. Yet here you are drunk, a saboteur to your own effort.' 

Alex flinched at the truth in his words. 'Honestly as interrogations go, I am feeling really attacked right now. What can I say? I'm having a midlife crisis', Alex drawled a bitter smile played on his lips. 'I have to say loved the motivational speech, if you are looking to be my father the position is open, just send a CV to...' 

The silver fox abruptly stood up and planted a stong kick to Alex's chest, sending him and the chair flying backwards. Damn, the old man packed a powerful kick. 

Alex groaned. 'Nope, you're not doing great on the parental side, bad daddy'. His chair slammed into the floor, and bounced sideways. His head had taken a double hit and it was not amused. 

'You can't hide behind your words forever Alexander.' The silver fox leisurely walked towards Alex. Without a warning he kicked Alex in his stomach and chest, it had Alex violently coughing and dry heaving. He attempted to curl into himself but the foot pressed into his side and flipped him over on to his back. His hands were trapped behind the chair and was pressed down in an awkward angle in to the floor by his body weight. When the black spots disappeared from his vision, Alex spoke hoarsely. 'Normally I would like to do other enjoyable activities when I'm on my back'. 

The fox stood straddling him. 'I’m going to ask you a series of question and you'll answer them honestly or I will be having fun with you, who knows I might even be able to make you scream." He was interrupted by a brunette woman walking in through the door. She was dressed in a grey suit with a knee length skirt with her hair tied up in a neat bun. She looked familiar... With a start, Alex recognized her as one of the waitresses from the restaurant. Her name was Maria, if that was even her real name. During one of the numerous times Alex had gone round the back on his break, he was joined by a few of his work colleagues and Maria. They must've stayed there for nearly an hour sharing a bottle of prosecco and a pack of Marlboro between them. Maria was a quiet one, she did not drink, but she did smoke a little. Now that Alex thought about it Maria had not disclosed much information about herself and she started at the restaurant a little after Alex. She was most likely there as a little spy. The million dollar question was whether she was there to spy specifically on Alex. The silver fox must be the mysterious owner for the bar and restaurant, Alex realised. Maria trotted in, holding a silver serving tray in her hand. From this angle Alex could not see if anything was on it unless it was just an empty tray were planning to beat him with. 

'If it isn't sweet Maria.' Maria glanced at Alex with a disinterested look. 'Ouch! Come on, aren't you at least going to ask how I'm feeling?' Alex questioned her. 

Maria stood holding the tray in her hand, she looked at the silver fox who was observing Alex with a small smile, he gave a small nod and Maria turned to face Alex and asked, 'How are you feeling?' 

'Come closer and feel for yourself,' Alex retorted back with a charming smile. 

Alex looked up at the silver fox, coyly peering from under his lashes and purred out, 'why don’t you have your lovely assistant torture it from me, I assure you it would be fun for the both of us'. The silver fox reached down and grabbed Alex by his throat and lifted him up. 'Alexander, that kind of language is unseemly of a gentleman to use in the presence of a lady', throwing him across the room. Alex heard Maria walk out and close the door shut behind her. The silver fox walked to Alex, the tips of his shoes were wedged underneath Alex's head. He leaned back in to his sight, albeit a little upside down and fuzzy. 'Let's start simple, how old are you?' 

Alex stayed silent, his hands twitched behind him. Something flashed in the corner of his eye. The object came in to sight the silver fox was spinning it around his finger, it was a scalpel. Alex internally sighed. MI6 wouldn't be coming to save him. They didn't even know that he'd been kidnapped, he was on his own.' Nunyah' 

The fox had a frown appearing on his forehead and repeated 'nunyah' 

'None of your business' Alex explained with a laugh. The scalpel disappeared from his line of sight. He felt the tip tracing over his stomach. Alex closed his eyes, he might as well play along for now until he knew what the silver fox wanted. 'Just hit my sweet 16.' 

The silver fox once again hauled him up and sat him and the blasted chair upright. The silver fox patted his cheek condescendingly, Alex flinched at the contact. 'See that wasn't hard, was it? Why were you sent here Alexandra? What did you find?' 

 

'Well you know how it is. There I was having a few drinks, and the lads dared me to sneak in to the docks in the dark.' 

The silver fox said nothing, he just simply jabbed the scalpel into Alex's shirt, the tip ghosted close to his skin. He drew the scalpel up and tore the shirt to this throat, Alex leaned back nearly falling over. 'Alright alright okaaaaay, just... don't'. The scalpel drew back. ' I overheard a conversation about a cargo and came to take a look, I didn’t find anything except that memory stick, you know that seeing as you were watching me'. Alex reddened at the thought of them watching him down that vodka. 

 

The silver fox looked at him. Alex grew slightly agitated. 'What?' he barked out. The silver fox shrugged and merely asked, 'who sent you here?' 

 

Alex felt the need to defend himself. 'Look, I didn’t ask for this. If it's any consolation I was applying like mad everywhere for a job and you guys rang me offering me job.' The silver fox gave him a side glance. Alex bit back a growl. 'Yes I know! I thought I just forgot that I applied...turns out it wasn't a weird coincidence. ' The silver fox looked thoughtful 'You didn't answer the question Alexandra, who sent you here' 

Alex deflated on the chair, blowing away a tuft of blonde hair that fell on his face. He was an idiot for taking this mission and an even more bigger idiot for coming here, 'I can't remember,' he finally sighed out, 'as riveting as this conversation is can you just untie me and let me go home.' 

Yassen who was standing quietly at the back decided to speak up ' He was most likely sent here by MI6, he has worked for them before'. 

'Snitches get stitches' Alex retorted back, 'Why is he here anyway, enjoying the show Comrade Borscht'. 

The silver fox looked amused, Alex wanted nothing more than to hit him with the chair and wipe that smile off his face, ' Well I hope they paid you well, funding that habit of yours can get expensive.' 

Alex did all he could to not leap out of the chair and on to his feet, he needed to stay calm, they were trying to get under his skin, make him slip up, they didn’t know him. He took a few calming breaths before counting off , 'One that is simply rude, two I like my nights to have a certain Je ne sais quoi' 

 

'Hmmmm' The silver fox moved forward, 'rude as leaving without a goodbye and taking money that isn't yours, The fox looked thoughtful 'or was that you collecting your payment'. 

Alex stared, mouth agape, shock written all over his face ' no...' 

'Come now, don't be shy, a hot blooded young male like yourself, you must've added that to your list of conquest, that is unless you were the conquest?' The fox laughed at the incredulous expression on Alex's face. 'How endearing you don't even remember who you spent the night with, although with the you were snorting drugs I'm not too surprised. Your father would be disappointed in you, so would your uncle, being reckless like this, they died for you.' 

Alex froze, with a look of surprise, his knuckles turning white with rage, He spoke bitterly, spitting out the words as if they were poison in his mouth ' They're dead, and last time I checked dead men don’t have opinions on current issues.' 

'The silver fox smirked at him, he spun in his feet and walked out of the door. Yassen followed behind him, Alex childishly stuck out his foot in a bid to trip him up but he stepped over it. The door shut firmly with a resounding clang, the lock clicking loudly in an empty room. The light switched off leaving Alex alone in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Lord luv a duck 'is a phrase used to show surprise, tom tit is a cockney rhyming slang and means shit.
> 
> I would love to hear what you think of the story so far, please do leave a comment. Constructive criticism is appreciated


	3. L'appel du vide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must have deleted and re wrote this chapter at least 5 times. I'm still not 100% with it, but its the best it could be at this point. Please leave a comment letting me know what you think of it.

Alex startles awake. He tries to recall the dream he had. He was running through a field, when he ran into a horse. He ate the horse, and looked up to find the horse eating him. 

 

Alex shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the dream, albeit it was grim but it was still better than the other dreams he could've had and reality as a whole right now.. 

 

He wasn't sure what they were planning to do with him. The silver fox in comparison to other evil doers that had tied him up was by a long shot nice. That set him off even more the not knowing . The thoughts itched through his head, rattling away. 

A long while after the silver fox had left ,a guard had come with a few crackers, an apple and a bottle of water, before blindfolding him and taking him to the toilet, tying him up again. Rinse. Repeat. 

He had long since lost sense of how much time had passed but harboured a guess that it had been long enough. He had no hope that MI6 were coming for him. Even if they had been monitoring his apartment, and he did not show for a few day they may just assume he was spending the nights with someone or out on a bender. It was hardly out of character for him to do. This was just a simple surveillance mission they wouldn't be expecting him to get himself kidnapped, even if they did they would just expect him to get himself out. 

 

The nerves in his shoulder was screaming in pain and he had long since lost the feeling in his hands. His muscles ached, and the tender flesh throbbed. Worsened by the violent shakes that overcame his body. A dull ache that began in his head and travelled to knot in his gut until it consumed him. His condition slowly progressed until he was left sweating profusely. The sweat matted in his hair and stuck to his forehead, he could feel it scratchy, irritating tickling his skin. Alex could feel each bead of sweat as it trailed down the side of his face, aided by the tremors that shook him. It was intensely irritating, like an itch you can't reach, an internal annoyance that was making him want to headbutt the wall. Drops of sweat appeared on his forehead, he could feel sweat trickling down his back, and oozing out of every pore and crevice. His shirt clung to him, suffocating and stifling him. He had never felt so tainted and disgusted by his own by-products. The shirt was torn open but the pieces did little to cool him, there was no breeze in this box. No air, it felt as if there was a tight band around his chest, pushing the air out of him. 

He tried to stand up with the chair strapped to him like a turtle shell, his legs were weak and gave out from under him. He was slammed with a bout of nausea, His stomach constricted cruelly. He rose to his knees, the chair digging in to his back, his head bent, struggling to stay upright as the bile seemed hell bent on expelling every last drop of him, he was left dry heaving and coughing all of his mistakes until he's left with nothing but regrets. 

 

Well as they say better up then down. The acid in his stomach churned with murderous intent. He went from feeling as if he was stuck in a car on a hot summers day to feeling cold as a corpse. His bones ached the chills coming in waves he could feel goosebumps erupted on his skin, his hairs standing up on end. He tried to shut his mind off, it would do him no good to start comparing himself to a corpse, he doesn’t want to go down that route. 

 

He awkwardly shuffled to the opposite side of the room, wanting to get away from the stench of vomit. Laying on the floor he stared at the cracks on the stone floor. He knew he should be feeling a multitude of emotions namely fight or flight, the need to get out of here, but the only emotion he could muster if pushed was a sense of loss. He was tired. He was just so tired. Bone weary. 

The word slipped out from between his lips, awkwardly rolled off his tongue. So quiet he wasn't sure if he imagined it. Please. 

It tumbled out of him like a prayer, a plea. Please. Pleasepleasepleaseplease. 

He wasn't sure how long he had lain there muttering to himself. Allowing it all to pull him under, the sweating, the shaking, the pain. It consumed him and he let it. Feeling himself surrender back in to blissful darkness. 

 

He wasn't sure what pulled him out of the haze. It was like a camera slowly coming in to focus. The mass jumble in his head gaining clarity until it became clear, he saw more than he had. Stark realisation. Enlightenment as such. 

 

He didn’t know when everything, his life, his now and future had spiralled so out of control. While there were a few defining moments, it was something that creeped in unnoticed until it mutated in to something unrecognisable but familiar. 

It began slowly on sleepless nights, the constant tossing and turning until the early mining, the jumping at every shadow. Seeing jack in every red head that he laid eyes on. The guilt was eating him away. 

It began with the nightmares. 

Nightmares that would haunt him days and nights on end, echoing in his mind, allowing no respite. Nightmares that would grip his heart and twist it leaving him dizzy, short of breath. 

His dreams were jumbled, spinning around and around saturated with fear and confusion. He would be running through the darkness, chased by known enemies, ones he had already disposed of. He would run endlessly in circles always trying to grasp a thin sliver of light that would always elude him no matter how fast he ran or how high he jumped. Knowing that if he lost sight of the light he would be left in the darkness, he ran and ran for the light. 

Other times numerous faces floated behind his eyelid, their bodies grotesque, their faces paling and the light slowing dimming in their eyes whilst the pool of blood around them widened until it filled the room, it would continue pumping out, their body would soon be covered with the sea of thick red liquid. There was no stopping it. Alex would be able to feel his heart beating faster and faster, the air thick around him, he could never quite swallow, no oxygen would reach his burning lungs. The red mass would begin to crawl up his leg until it would forcefully enter his lung via his mouth and nose. 

He would wake up gasping, his sheets drenched in sweat and once with urine. 

 

Nightmares that could only be quelled and silenced with alcohol. Erased until nothing was left but numb emptiness. He just needed something to help him float. The uplifting buzz paired with the relief of letting go of his guilt was addictive enough, being drunk was more peaceful than being sober. He was the master of his mind and his demons , he wouldn’t allow it to consume him. 

 

It began because he couldn't say no. There was always one more small simple mission, one more manic trying to burn the world.  
It began when they stole his innocence and turned him into a weapon when it pleased them. It was ironic Blunt never allowed him to have a gun, in spite of that many people around Alex were always being killed, a jellyfish here an explosion there. He may have never directly killed until Julius but did that make him any less a murderer? He'd be given a pat on the back, sent back off to school the next day. Packed away for safekeeping until he was next needed. 

 

It began with want of normality, the feeling of euphoria, happiness. Drinking had chased away the demons but it lacked the emotions. 

It wasn't long until he decided to venture out to something with more tantalising affects. He was master of his mind and his demons, he wouldn't allow it to control him. He just needed a little pill to help him loosen up a little. A little snort to help him have fun. Just a little smoke to help keep everything at bay. Just a little something to help him be free. 

But he could see now, he had never relinquished the control, simply because he never had any. He was not the master nor was he ever. 

He had long since slipped down the slope, he chosen to not notice. The slope that everyone has pushed aside. He mentally scoffs 'everyone'. He had no one in his corner. He was just another being that slipped through the cracks unnoticed by society. Until it told him to save the world. 

Here he was 

Curled on to a dirty floor 

with a chair strapped on to him, an almost laughable image if he didn't feel anger clawing at him. 

He was an idiot for thinking he had it all in hand 

An idiot for being sloppy 

An idiot for dancing to the tune of MI6, he had already lost enough to them. 

 

 

He'd be damned if he died like this. The basement of the docks strapped to a chair. 

If Jack was here... 

 

No 

No one was here, there was no one waiting for him. No one coming for him. 

 

If he was going to die it would be Rider Style. It would be mesmerising with a bang. It would certainly not be now. It sure as hell wouldn't be now. His heart rate spike as adrenaline flooded his body. 

 

Alex forced himself to think. He needed to get out of here, he needed to focus and suppressed all other thoughts and emotions deep down, escape first, deal with the mental fall out of poor life choices later. He attempted to sift through his mind for small details he could piece together to make a plan. 

With African drums pounding his head and a mouth drier than Ghandi's flip flop in summer he was surprisingly finding it hard to string together coherent thoughts . 

 

 Damn you, withdrawal symptoms. 

 

Frustrated, Alex rolled on to his front and slowly stood up, he then leaned back and sat down on the chair. Shifting around gingerly until he was comfortably seated and his arms weren’t as strained. He tipped his head back and released a primal scream. His head wildly moving from side to side. He stopped when his throat began to feel raw. Taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he was feeling lighter and more revived. 

He listened out for footsteps and heard none. Either no one was here or they were just ignoring him. 

 

Alex stood up and walked to the nearest wall, stooping he carefully levelled it, and with a sharp twist he slammed the chair legs into the wall. The chair was a sturdy but wooden, with a few angry slams the legs began to crack until one splintered off. He awkwardly went down back on the floor and grabbed the splinted piece with difficulty. His fingers fumbling and dropping it a few times. He angled the sharp splintered edge as best as he could blindly He began to saw at the robes that bind his hands, the angle combined with the speed and force of the sawing motion had the makeshift knife skittering across the rope and scratching his wrist a handful of times. The rope began to fray, with a harsh tug Alex pulled at his wrist breaking the last of the rope is brute strength. The chair fell away with a clatter Alex rubbed at his wrists, wiggling his stiff fingers. 

 

That was the first order of business taken care of. 

 

When he had screamed wildly shaking his head, it gave him cover to survey the room and check for cameras without drawing attention to himself or breaking away from his previous pathetic persona. It would be beneficial if they underestimated him. He couldn't spot any devices at all, Alex grabbed he longest piece of rope and wrapped it around his palms and gave it a pull, it was still strong and would be useful. Alex patted himself down, feeling the edges of his clothes for a small wire or anything he could use to pick the lock of the door. It was a basic lock that just needed a key nothing high tech. 

He wasn't sure how many guards were around or where they would even be, but he would cross that bridge when he gets to it. 

 

Alex was pulled out of his musing with the sound of a approaching footsteps. It was most likely the lone guard with a dinner delivery. Perfect. There was no particular blind spots to hide in the room. His only chance was to catch him off guard, knock him out and leave. Alex surveyed the room and the broken chair in the middle of the room. He nudged it a little closer to the door and pushed it on to its side and moved the broken leg so it was out of sight, he would get on the floor and put his hand behind the chair pretending he was still tied to the chair. As the footsteps stopped outside the door, the grating sound of a metal key slipping into the key hole echoed across the silent room. 

Three things happened in that moment. His knee bucked without warning, unable to cushion his fall, he sprawled in a heap, he hit his head hard enough to see black spots, his body had not forgiven him for the abuse. There was an audible click to signal the door being unlocked. The door was pushed open with a bang to reveal more than one person. 

Alex was hauled up to lean on the wall, his ruse unfolding before him. Alex fell a lot harder than anticipated his body limp like a rag doll. 

The rest of the men stayed outside the door while the silver fox sauntered in staring at him with a look of amusement. 'oh dear!'. Alex just moaned swallowing down the feeling of nausea, willing himself to stop the room spinning around him. 

 

'Haven't you been a very busy bee. I must say you simply look terrible. You smell just as terrible' 

 

Alex took a few breath and opened his mouth when he was sure he wasn't going to vomit 'How dare you, you incorrigible bastard son of a bloody bachelor.' 

 

The silver fox huffed a laugh 'get up'. He motioned with his hand two guards came to either side of Alex and grabbed him lifting him to his feet. Alex stood on shaky legs resting his weight on the goons. He looked at them with a side glance and gave them names, Ernie and Bernie, They were dressed in black combats with a gun tucked to their side. Any other weapon must be concealed. Possible knife strapped to a wrist on ankle. Maybe one more gun inside their jacket. The silver fox surveyed Alex with narrow eyes when he caught him noting the men. Bernie had a large bruise on his throat, Alex squinted and looked at him more closely, he looked familiar...he broke out in a grin 'How's the head?' Bernie was the man he had previously knocked out. 

'if he tries something, shoot him' the silver fox directed before placing a sack on Alex head. 

 

'wait, where areyoustakngme' Alex asked his voice muffled. 

With an arm tightly grabbed by each Alex was frog marched out of the room. Bernie had seemingly taken offence to being knocked out and had led Alex to walk into more than a few walls and drag him up and down steps without warning leading him to stumble. Alex tried to keep note of the direction they were taking, straight ahead, left for a few meters before taking another right in to a wall, up the stairs, down some stairs but after the next few turns he lost track. Alex was not entirely sure they weren't doubling back to just to confuse him. When the sack was finally removed from his head he was in a small bath room, there was a large shower tucked in the corner. Everything looked new and modern. 

Ernie motioned to the shower both he and Bernie both stood, closing the door, blocking the exit staring at Alex with a hand resting on their gun, not taking any chances. 

Alex turned on the shower and pulled off his top and looked back at Ernie and Bernie when they made no move to turn around or even look away, Alex stared back them raising a brow ' really you're going to watch me shower, that's fucked up, is that where you get your kicks from?' 

 

'Shut up and shower before we decide to give you a hand', Bernie retorted back with a twisted smile. 

 

Alex could feel the grime on his skin, his hair felt matted with oil and residue, the platinum blonde locks had darkened from the dirt and was hanging limply. 

' Ya'noe you look like a pair of child pedo, it's a very natural look on you', Alex removed the rest of his clothing opted to keep his boxers on before stepping into the steaming shower. He had dialled it to full blast and steam was filling the room rapidly. The water scalded his skin, he tipped his head back letting it wash over his face. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the tiled wall and let the water jet over his back. 

His eyes flickered downwards to his torso and where the bullet scar would have been. His body had looked old and worn, covered in scar tissues marring, telling the sad story of his life. 

Some say tattoos are attention seekers and draw a person's eyes. Excessive scars did the same. 

He covered his scars over with a new story of his own, tattoos. a symphony of opposites, old and new, damaged and covered, the tattoos worked with the scars and helped them blend in and disappear. His body would still stand out but this time for different reasons. Instead of always having to always stay covered to escape the unabashed staring looks of horror or pitying glances. 

 

He could still remember at school in Brookland, after playing a match of football with the lads, they would all pile into the shower. An overpowering sense of comradeship whilst they bantered in the communal showers, Alex would always have to make some excuse to not get in the shower with them. They would laugh and take his excuses with a roll of eyes thinking of him as a prude. Alex would hurriedly get dressed when he was sure they were all in the shower, he would shower when he got home. Until one week, he had his top off and was rummaging in his bag trying to find his deodorant. There was a gasp from behind him as his Marco his team mate took in the scars that marred his back. Alex made a weak excuse fumbling over his words. The next week he missed football practise, the week after he completely dropped out. The week after that he was back on another mission. 

 

He knew Jones was not happy with him getting tattoos, it took away his childish aura but she could not out rightly stop him. 

He refused to linger on the thought, now was not the time to wallow. He glanced around looking for toiletries to wash with, there was only one bottle, with no label on it. He shrugged, and dolloped a good size on his head lathering his hair with it, before rubbing it over his body. He washed himself off. Switching off the water,he sleeked his hair back away from his face and grabbed a large towel from the rail. 

He stepped out of the shower leaving a large puddle on the floor, wrapped it around his waist, placing a smaller one around his shoulders to catch the droplets of water from his hair. Stretching out his muscles. 

He walked towards the two men and when he was close enough he shook his head like a dog, spraying droplets of water on their faces and clothes. Bernie growled and lunged at him, Alex quickly threw the small, towel at his face he sidestepped giving a generous back kick whilst simultaneously throwing the larger towel at Ernie.. Like a matador and a bull chasing the red, Bernie was propelled forward, slipping on the puddle of water and falling headfirst knocking himself out. 

Ernie had caught the towel that was thrown at him with both hands, He was distracted to not see Alex bringing his knee upwards and slamming it right in to his crown jewels. As Ernie bent over in response his face contoured with pain, Alex bought the heel of his hand in to Ernie's nose, forcing his head backwards leaving his throat defenceless for Alex to aim a harsh chop at it. Alex slid down on to the floor tackling his legs. Ernie slammed into the floor, laying still. Alex quickly grabbed the gun that Ernie carried it felt unfamiliar in his hand, feeling heavier than usual. He removed his wet boxers and rubbed the towel over himself quickly before throwing it over Bernie. He divested Ernie of his clothes, they were a little big, it would have to make to do his clothes were to dirty. They would hopefully serve as a good cover for him too get out without too many questions. Alex slipped on his shoes and opened the door finding Yassen standing there. 

'How long have you been standing there,' 

'Long enough, put the gun down Alex' 

Alex raised the gun so it was level with Yassen chest 'well if its all the same I'd rather not'. 

'That's a tranquilliser gun', Yassen added casually, 'You can shoot, put me to sleep, then what? There's men posted on every corner you won't get far. Give me the gun' he asks holding out his hand 

 

Alex weighed his opinion unwilling to back down. He was young, skilled and strong but compared to Yassen he was heavily outclassed, Yassen looked at him almost as if he knew the thoughts running through his head. 

'Choose your battles carefully little Alex' 

 

With a sullen look Alex went to give the gun to Yassen, aiming the barrel towards the floor. At the last minute he bought the gun up and shot it at Yassens. Yassen was expecting it, alerted by a sixth sense, Yassen kicked at Alex's hand and the shot went wide. Yassen unleashed a torrent of punches which Alex clumsily blocked. A game of cat and mouse, Yassen is toying with him. Yassen threw a wide right hook, Alex without thinking bought up left arm in a wide arc to to block him,the impact had him reeling and numbed his arm. Yassen twisted his arm over and caught Alex's arm under his armpit in a tight clasp. They both knew that Alex wasnt going to win, they also knew Alex wouldn't surrender now. Alex stepped closer to Yassen and pushed his weight in to Yassen, he turned to the side and attempted to sweep a leg behind Yassen in a bid to kick his heel and sweep him off his feet or unbalance him in the least. It was like kicking a flesh stone wall, Yassen did not even move an inch. The move left Alex one closer to Yassen and straddling his thigh. 

The adrenaline that had fuelled him had peaked and the post rush drop was no longer hiding the pains of his body, it robbed him of his ability to think quickly and form a clear plan. He felt unbelievably tired, his muscles were tensed and Yassen was warm , he came to when he realised he was almost seated upright on Yassens thigh, in the midst of leaning into his chest. Alex had no time to feel humiliated, 

Yassen without warning released the arm that was trapped under his armpit and gave it a mighty pull. Alex who found one of his leg behind Yassen skittered, unbalanced. He was half pulled, half stepped over Yassens leg, stumbling. He attempted to pivot on the ball of his foot and land a kick. Yassen slapped the kick away, and aimed a high punch. Alex spun around and ducked under the punch, to lift his head up to find Yassens face inches from his. Alex eyes widened in surprise and his head reared back in an attempt to widen the gap between their faces. Yassen bought the heel of his hand into Alex's chest, on the bullet wound. The move knocked the breath out of him, his world exploding in a ball of pain and breathlessness. Black spots dancing around his eyes. He felt something hard behind his back, and a soft voice in the distant talking.The scene drew parallel and reminded him of when he was shot outside of the Bank, seeing his parents, how they looked at him. He felt a sharp pang of longing. 

Alex tried to reach out but he found he couldn't move his hand, it was trapped in a warm grip. He heard the voice clearly now, 'your're okay, just breathe, in and out' 

 

Alex opened his eyes, he was sat against the wall with his legs outstretched, his vision blurry, his eyelashes weighed down and something warm trailing down his cheeks. Yassen was holding his hand staring at him silently. 

Alex felt anger flood his body, Alex elbowed him, 'are you for real, you try to cave my chest in, now your holding my hand like a simpering mother hen'. 

Alex looked down to their still joined hands, before painstakingly saying, each word weighed with a careful amount of malice ' honestly i am flatterd, but i can't say i am inclined to my fathers leftovers.' Puling his hand out of Yassens, he latter staying silent. 

Alex made no move to wipe the tears away, not wanting to address it. 

Yassen looked him over once before, standing up. They stayed like this for a minute before Yassen offered his hand to a seated Alex. Alex slapped it away before pushing back against the wall and unsteadily getting to his feet. 

 

They walked in silence, the corridors were empty and deserted.There was most certainly not men posted on every corner. Alex closed his eyes at the realisation if he just shot Yassen he would've been very far from here. He mentally swore at himself. The next chance he would get there would be no hesitation. 

 

They walked into a large room there were no windows, a makeshift office of sorts, it lacked any personal effects, the was a desk and the silver fox was sitting behind it, not looking surprised with the lack of Ernie and Bernie. 

'The shower has done you good, yo...' Alex cut off the sliver fox mid sentence 'What do you want, if you want to kill me just get it over with already' 

 

The fox stood up and walked around the desk to a small cabinet, pouring out two fingers of whiskey. 

' I have no plan to kill you ' offering a glass to Alex. 

'Well pheww that's a huge weight off.' Alex quipped back, dry and sarcastic. Plucking both glasses from his hand, chucking them both quickly down his throat before handing back the empty glass. 

' I'm not going to kill you because you're doing a great job of it yourself. Personally I think it's more entertaining watching you fall down the rabbit hole, the drugs ,the self loathing, it's a whole less stress for me'. The silver fox added conversationally, perching on the end of his desk with a smirk. 

 

Alex froze, his fingers clenched so tight in a fist they were going white, he did all he could to not leap up and hit the man. Not wanting him to know let on how much the comment stung. Instead he settled on a laugh, sounding fake even to his ears 'alright Grandpa calm it down. Don't get dramatic, this isn't the 50's. Younglings like me like to go wild and party these days'. 

Alex moved to the desk and both pair of eyes watched him intently, and sat down on the chair, putting his feet on the desk and leaning back into the chair, bouncing a few times. His mouth turned thoughtfully, hmm it's a pretty comfortable chair, he voiced it out loud. The silver fox continued to perch on the desk and looked at him with an all knowing amusing smirk. His expression made it clear that he knew something Alex didn't. As tempted as he was, Alex did not take the bait and ask what he was missing out on. 

There was a knock on the door and it opened to a man holding a suit bag. 'Ahh that reminds me, this is for you' the silver fox told Alex, He stood up and moved to stand next to Alex 'Leave it on the table' he directed to the man. The man carefully laid it down on the table and walked out with a slight nod. 

Alex dropped his feet off the table and leaned forward to look curiously at it, 'What is it?' 

'Open it and find out' 

Alex slowly unzipped it, half expecting something to jump out at him. Inside was a grey suit with a blue shirt, Black boxer shorts and a pair of black shoes,they looked to be his size. Alex looked up at the men with a confused look, is this like an initiation process for your big boy club? I would have to decline. How do you know my size anyway?' 

 

Ignoring his quips the silver fox uttered 'Hurry up and get dressed, you don't want to be late', Alex made no move to get dressed, not understanding what the silver fox was up to. Where was he being taken, and to do what his mind coming up blank 'What' he asked confused, staring at the clothes. 

'Maybe I'm not explaining myself clearly, hurry up and get changed before Gregorovitch here gives you a hand' 

Alex stares hard at him before reluctantly getting up and grabbing the suit bag towards him, not wanting to push his luck. He dressed quickly hiding behind the desk.He nonchalantly scanned the desk for anything that would come in use. 

He put his old clothes in a pile on the desk before shrugging on the blazer.Alex was alarmed to find the suit fit perfectly, it was tailored to him. How on earth did they get his measurements. Has he really been this lax? 

 

When he was done, once again he found himself being escorted by Yassen who kept a tight grip on his upper arm. 

He was led to the outdoor courtyard of the docks. It was open plan, and there was a black car waiting. There wasn't anywhere to run to, he could always jump into the water. However there was a very high possibility that Yassen would jump in and drown him. Wherever they were taking him it was certainly high class judging by the suit and the car, unless they wanted him to die in style. 

He was surprised to find himself not being shoved in the boot. He was seated in the spacious back seat, along with the silver fox. Strapped into the seat with restraints, the more he moved the tighter they became, the soft clicks signalled the child locks being engaged. Alex assumed Yassen sat at the front, but he wasn't sure as the partition was raised, robbing him of the view of the road. 

Alex leaned back in the seat It would do him no good to panic now, he would bide his time and find the right opportunity. Until then he would sit back and enjoy the ride.

**Author's Note:**

> i will try to update as soon as i can, but it may be a little slow.


End file.
